


Not only to Survive, but to Thrive

by TheObsoleteOne



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Escorts, Drama, F/M, Plotting Sansa, Romance, Seduction, Sex Work, Smart Sansa, Smut, Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-01-15 09:06:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18495766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheObsoleteOne/pseuds/TheObsoleteOne
Summary: Sansa is a Courtesan starting to work in King's Landing. She knows how to use what she has to get what she wants, and after the loss of her family all she truly wants is freedom. Until she can be free, she will use every skill she has to get her way and take back the power that was lost to her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this AU is completely off the reservation - Sansa has multiple pairings in this because she is a courtesan. For this work I envisioned an empowered Sansa who has control in every situation with the men she meets, and has learnt how to manipulate others as a survival tool. I really hope you enjoy!

Sansa smiled as her _domina_ Lucia fastened the heavy rope necklace behind her neck admiring the way the gold reflected the candlelight in the mirror. She let her eyes trail down to take in the rich silk fabric that adorned her body. It was a modest dress, crisp white in colour and flatteringly draped across her body. Her shape and features were apparent without the need to show skin. She had chosen this very outfit for a reason. It balanced purity with the promise of more and would afford more respect up front than if she were showing obscene amounts of skin.

 

Her fiery hair was partly done up in braids that looped around each other, whilst the bottom half of her hair was free and ran down her back in waves. Sansa had placed delicate flowers throughout her braids, pleased at the innocent look she was now conveying despite the common knowledge of her place as a _Courtesan_.

 

“You have no need to be nervous my sweet. I promise that you will have the attention of every man in the room.” Lucia caught her gaze in the mirror, knowing where her thoughts would be heading.

“That is what worries me Madame.” Sansa spoke softly, barely above a whisper.

“Remember. You are not required to be anything but company for them, Jon will be near you every step of the way.” That thought did calm the young woman down somewhat.

 

“I am not simply nervous, but also strangely excited. Is this wrong Madame?” Sansa flushed as she admitted it, but the pleased smile she got in return abated her fears somewhat.

“Of course not. This is what I have trained you for, and you understand what is most important to remember: that you have _complete_ power over these men. They may believe that you are nothing more than a pretty face and lithe body but you know better. Their assumptions are your strength.”

“I know. Thank you Madame. For everything.” Sansa knew there was so much that she cannot possibly begin to thank Lucia for.

 

The other woman gently turned her around by her shoulders, and pressed a soft kiss to Sansa’s forehead. “You are beautiful my dear. No thanks are needed, it would have been a tragedy for such a bright flame to be extinguished before it had a chance to take hold of this city.” The two women shared a look of knowing and a hint of mischief.

 

“Sorry for the intrusion, my ladies but the carriage is here and it is time to leave.” Sansa looked towards her to-be constant protector with a smile and a nod. Satisfied, Jon Snow bowed his head and left the room promptly.

“We should be off for your debut.” Lucia smiled, picking up her own fine robes and gliding out of the room, arm in arm with Sansa.

 

The trip to the patron’s house was quiet and Sansa could feel the butterflies building as they went. What if she failed and embarrassed not only herself but Lucia and her scholae as well? It would not do to dwell on such thoughts she decided.

“I will leave after I introduce you, and it will be your turn to shine. Whilst you may not see Jon at all times he will always be close by and ready to intervene at a moment’s notice if you so feel that such action is needed.” Lucia repeated for Sansa’s benefit as much as her own. Although she had faith in the girl in front of her, she was nervous that something may happen. But that was why Jon was there, and she knew no more stalwart protectors than him.

 

“I will be but a breath away my lady.” Jon promised.

“Thank you Jon, it is great comfort to know that you will be close.” The carriage soon pulled to a halt, and a servant came around to open the door for them allowing the group to disembark. Jon immediately retreated a distance away, ready to blend in with the crowd once they entered and were inside. The host of the party stood waiting for them at the bottom of stone steps which led to his property.

 

“Ah, Madame Cattell! You honour us with your presence.” Petyr Baelish was all smiles and congeniality, but Sansa recognised a glint of knowing in his eyes. There was a reason he had been chosen as her first patron she believed.

“Of course, you have always treated my girls well. I knew I could trust you with little Dove on her first outing. Speaking of, I should introduce her.” Lucia smiled back, gesturing towards Sansa as she spoke.

“No introductions are necessary my dear. Truly, it is my honour to be the first to host the Dove of the North. My lady.” At that, Petyr bowed as she offered her hand out for him to kiss.

 

It was not just empty words he was saying, Sansa knew. Madame Lucia’s scholae was considered highly respected in the city, and much promotion had been done around her own debut. Having been so successful in the past, the scholae had the right to choose which patrons to grant women to. Being allowed to be the first patron to host the “Dove” was sure to be a sign of Petyr’s status and respect.

 

“I trust I can leave her in your capable hands?” Lucia asked an edge of warning to her voice. She would not tolerate any harm befalling Sansa kindly.

“Most definitely. You have my word.” Another low bow from Petyr. Satisfied, Lucia turned to Sansa and kissed her cheek.

“He will be kind, remember Jon is here to protect you.” She whispered into a delicately jeweled ear before gracefully climbing back into the carriage with assistance from a servant.

 

Sansa smiled politely at Petyr and curtsied to him. “Thank you for your kind words my Lord, perhaps I should ask what is expected of me this night so I can best serve you?” the flattering words easily rolled off her tongue. Petyr offered his elbow and she rested one small hand in the crook, allowing him to guide her up the stairs.

“I have a harp waiting for you to play, and I was hoping that you would sing for us as well?”

“Of course my Lord.”

“Please call me Petyr in private.” The grin he shot at her was cheeky

“I don’t know if that would be proper…” She trailed off, playing demure for the time being.

“I understand you are not fully comfortable yet, but I hope in time you will be.” The grin on his face turned serious as they reached the main entrance to his villa and he stopped walking.

                                                                                                                                               

“I want to be clear that you are not to be treated with any disrespect by any of my guests. I have told them, but I always worry what may pass when drink clouds judgement. Let me know if anyone bothers you and they will be taken care of swiftly.” Sansa nodded, and allowed some genuine gratitude to creep onto her face.

“I appreciate your protection Lord Baelish.” She made a mental note of the blush on his cheeks as she said that. Smiling once more, he asked if she was ready – signaling to the servants to open the door as she nodded. Swiftly he guided her to the back patio where the sounds of mingling could be heard.

 

“My lords!” Petyr’s voice echoed throughout the open space and caught the attention of those gathered. “It is my honour to introduce the Lady Dove of the North on her debut. She has graciously agreed to perform a song for us.” Sansa smiled as sweetly as she could and curtsied deeply. Part of her was overwhelmed by the sheer number of men around. Truly she was meant as the star attraction as there were no other women present.

 _Jon has my back – he is a better fighter than almost all of these noblemen put together._ The thought comforted her a great deal.

 

She allowed Petyr to lead her to the ceremonial harp that stood on a raised platform out under the stars. Flowers surrounded the area, and truly Sansa did not think she could come up with a better stage herself. Silence took the room once she sat down and got into position, and Sansa was taken with a feeling of absolute power, even if just for this moment. All of the highest born men in the land were waiting on her with bated breath. She would not disappoint.

 

Her fingers started moving, plucking the tune of a familiar mournful song from her true lands in the North. Soon, her voice joined in. there were no words sung, she simply used her voice as yet another instrument to compliment the strings of the harp. Madame Lucia had praised this song as “ethereal, mysterious and emotional” and Sansa could understand why. It was a song traditionally sung to lament the loss of the sun during the harsh Northern winters mixed with prayers to their gods for protection and safekeeping.

 

Sansa closed her eyes, letting the memory of the song take hold. When she ended it was with one final note sung from her mouth that echoed throughout. Total silence followed, disturbed only by the wind rustling the plants around. She opened her eyes to see the shocked faces of the men around her. Scanning the crowd quickly to gauge their reactions she could see want, longing, lust, wonder and pain across their faces, to name only a few.

 

Softly smiling, Sansa rose from her seat and curtsied once more. Inside she was grinning in triumph, but externally she needed to ensure her features were schooled into a more gentle expression. Clasping her hands behind her back she looked down in what she hoped looked like discomfort at the attention. “Thank you all for watching the performance, it is an honour to play for you.” Her voice was light and soft but might as well have been yelled for the way the men hung on to her every word.

 

Petyr reacted as expected (and hoped) and quickly came to join her on the platform. “I think some applause is in order.” He claimed, prompting polite cheers from the audience. Clearly they were making an effort to look less rowdy for her benefit. Soon they went back to talking amongst themselves and Petyr took the opportunity to whisk Sansa into a private room for a moment.

 

“Are you alright my lady?” he asked, concerned, once they were alone.

“I am, and I thank you my Lord.” She allowed a grateful smile, “I simply was surprised at all of the attention at the end there.”

“I do not blame you, but at the same time you were so enrapturing that I could not imagine anyone not paying you attention.”

“You are too free with your flattery my Lord, it is perhaps best reserved for one other than me.” When a finger came under her chin to bring her eyes level with Petyr’s, Sansa knew she had been right in her hunch.  _I know how to control at least one man in this city._ She thought with satisfaction.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The night continued in much the same manner it had started, with Petyr guiding Sansa around to meet prominent noblemen all of whom were gushing with praise at her performance. She could not deny that there was pleasure to be had in all of this attention, but she could not afford to let her guard down around anyone in the villa.

 

Eventually she was left to mingle by herself as Petyr smooth talked some prospective business partners, and the inevitable occurred.

“Why hello my pretty, foolish of Baelish to leave you alone with so many hungry men around.” The words game from someone Sansa recognised as Joffrey Baratheon, a widely accepted brat with a penchant for entitlement that reached far beyond his meager station. No doubt encouraged by his mother.

“Well, Lord Baelish has no reason to believe that fellow noblemen would lack self-control. It is a basic thing to expect from such distinguished guests.” Sansa smiled benignly, speaking loud enough for those around to hear her words. Some were beginning to listen in. _Good_ she thought, _hopefully Joffrey will embarrass himself and I will be free from his presence._

 

The man simply laughed loudly. “But you are such a fine piece of flesh; I know I would not mind a taste.” The leer he shot her sent a shiver of disgust down her spine. “How about you allow me the chance to… partake.” At that he flicked a single gold coin at her which landed on the floor with a soft tinkle.

“You must forgive me, my Lord but I am here as Lord Baelish’s guest for the night. It is improper for me to accept such a crude offer from you.” Her head held high, Sansa kept eye contact with the blonde man.

“You wretched little bitch! That should be more than enough for you to open your mouth for me!” Joffrey’s face turned an ugly shade of purple when he was enraged, Sansa mused. _Perhaps it is also the drink_.

“I must ask that you refrain from such language. I come from Madame Lucia’s scholae, and it would do you well to remember that.” Sansa was aware that she was pushing it with those words, but decided to take the gamble. It was just too tempting to be able to put Joffrey in his miserable little place.

 

“You are disrespecting the scholae!” Came a cry from the crowd, getting murmurs of assent. This only angered Joffrey more, and he took a threatening step closer to Sansa. She could feel Jon’s presence; ready to step in but Lord Baelish did so first.

“I must ask you to leave my Lord Baratheon; I think you have had too much wine for the night.” The elder man spoke strongly and clearly, and did not provide a chance for rebuttal. “I am afraid the drink has addled your mind and it would not do for you to say anymore regrettable words.” The threat was clear. Joffrey quickly looked around him for support but found no sympathetic faces. Having at least some sense, he grumbled petulantly and walked out to seemingly leave the villa.

 

“I truly apologise for that fiasco my lady.” Lord Baelish bowed deeply to Sansa.

“It is of no consequence my Lord, thank you for stepping in when you did. I owe you thanks.” Sansa knew she would have been fine, as Jon would have stopped any true harm but it would not hurt to flatter Petyr in the meantime. “I might excuse myself to a private spot outside, just to take a moment to regain composure.” Petyr agreed and led her to a spot further in the garden, away from prying eyes which offered a measure of seclusion. She bade him off with small thanks and sat down on a stone stool nestled under a canopy of flowers.

 

“Are you alright my lady?” Jon came forward once Petyr was well out of earshot.

“I am Jon; I simply needed a moment away from the fakery and pleasantries.” Sansa smiled genuinely for the first time since leaving the carriage tonight. “Thank you for being with me tonight, it is good to know that there is a genuinely friendly face for me amongst these men.”

“Of course.” Jon nodded and smiled back at her. She took a moment to close her eyes and breathe deeply, savouring the crisp cool air.

 

“Think I can get you to reconsider now that Baelish is not here to scare me off?” The grating, slurring voice of Joffrey interrupted the momentary peace. Internally growling, Sansa opened her eyes to see him standing across from her. Jon’s hand was on the hilt of his sword and appeared deterrent enough to keep the man from approaching closer.

“It is ok Jon, I can handle this.” She said softly walking up to Joffrey. She was taller than him it seemed. “I must reiterate that tonight I am in the service of Lord Baelish. If you wish to host me yourself, I would ask you to go through the proper channels and speak with my scholae first.”

“You fucking cunt!” Joffrey yelled. Sansa could hear the light clanging of armour as Jon moved swiftly and held up a delicate hand to halt him.

“I must ask that you refrain from such vulgarities my Lord.” Her voice rang high and clear throughout the gardens. Sansa knew others must have heard his outburst and would be approaching shortly, so wanted to ensure that her own was heard as well.

 

Sure enough there were footsteps fast approaching, and before Joffrey had riled up enough to spit more venom at her a tall blonde man came into view.

“Joffrey, stop this at once!”

 _Ah,_ Sansa thought, _so this is the famous Jaime Lannister_.

“But uncle – this wench –“

“I told you to stop.” Jaime clenched his hand around Joffrey’s arm and judging by the wince from the man, it was not a light grip. The knight started whispering into the younger blonde’s ear and Sansa watched with no small amount of satisfaction as the purple face gave way to a brilliant hue of pink. With nary another word Joffrey stalked away. Only as he left did Jaime bow before her.

“I apologise deeply for my nephew’s foolish words my lady. I extend the apology to you also, Lord Baelish. We meant no disrespect to your wonderful event.” The last part was directed at Petyr as he too caught up and joined them.

 

A quick nod was all Jaime got from him and Sansa managed a thank you before he turned heel and marched out to ensure his wayward nephew was truly leaving.

“Thank you for your concern my guests.” Sansa had not noticed a crowd gathering until Petyr mentioned it. “I would ask that you re-join the festivities though, the beautiful Dove may grace us with another song if she feels comfortable to do so.” This mollified their curiosity somewhat and the few gathered soon left. Petyr took a moment to speak with one of his servants before returning to stand in front of Sansa.

 

“I fear I am apologising all too much tonight, I hope that your debut has not sullied your opinion of me.” He said, taking both her hands in his.

“As before, you have naught to apologise for my Lord. I confess I am frustrated on your behalf, as Lord Baratheon disrespected you with his words.”

“Dove, truly you are a remarkable creature if that is what bothers you from this exchange.” He laughed as he shook his head.

 

Two servants suddenly ran by, one shaking a blanket out whilst the other placed a basket down on the blanket once it was settled on the ground. Once done the servants exited as quickly and quietly as they came.

“I thought perhaps I may sweeten the night with my finest desserts. Only for the two of us.” Sansa took Petyr’s hand and sat gracefully on the blanket with her legs tucked to the side. Jon made himself scarce silently.

 

“How well acquainted are you with sweets made here in King’s Landing?”

“If I am honest, many are much too expensive to partake in for one such as myself.” Sansa blushed and looked down, pretending to be ashamed of the fact.

“One such as you should have access to all the sweetness and luxury that can be had in this city.” Petyr was being fairly sweet, act or not so Sansa decided to throw him a small bone.

“You are all too kind to me Petyr – I mean my Lord!” She tried to act truly horrified at her ‘slip’ and saw the satisfaction on Petyr’s face.

“I will get you to call me Petyr yet.” He promised. “Now, perhaps it is time to eat some of these sweets?” Sansa agreed, and allowed him to feed her the desserts. Her genuine delight at the lemon cakes pleased him greatly and by the time they were done, she accepted his offer to accompany her back to her residence.

 

Petyr summoned a carriage and they left the villa. When Sansa enquired about her second performance he laughed it off and said that his guests were way too drunk to remember if they had even seen it or not. Finally, he took her to her door. It was only a small apartment that she held in a block that belonged to Lucia.

“I am afraid that you would be underwhelmed by my abode, else I would offer you tea.” She apologetically said to her patron. He waved it off.

“I am certain your beauty makes any space wonderful, but I wish not to make you uncomfortable this night. We will see each other again soon enough.”

“I would like that my Lord.” Sansa smiled thinly smiled – she had indulged him once already tonight. A bit more would not hurt surely? She leant up on her tiptoes and pressed a lingering kiss to the older man’s cheek. She heard his breath hitch and stopped herself from smiling in triumph.

 

He bowed once more to her then walked off, looking over his shoulder at her as he did. She waved politely until he was out of view. “Jon? Would _you_ perhaps like a tea?” there was no heat or flirt in her tone, she appreciated his company more than anything else.

“Of course.” With a smile she turned and let him into her room, tightly shutting the door behind them and finally closing off the rest of the city.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

“How are you really Sansa?” Jon got straight to it once they were both settled down nursing cups of tea.

“I am tired and drained.” Sansa replied thoughtfully, sipping at her tea. The weather in King’s Landing was not nearly warm enough to justify the drink but it brought her a small measure of comfort and reminded her of home. She imagined it was the same for Jon.

“Baelish is a bastard, I hope you know that.” He knew Sansa had things under control but it was hard not to comment at times. Thankfully she did not appear annoyed by it and smiled wryly.

“I am well aware. It was he who arranged my sale to the Boltons after all.” It was said so casually, but Jon felt fire and rage build up inside him at the words. “Stay seated please.” He had not realised he had stood up until Sansa reminded him. Heavily, he sat back down.

“How did you – “

“Hide it? I thought of all the ways I would see him dead, and how joyous such a sight would be. He does not know me anyway, and clearly does not make the connection between me and the young child he sold off. I do not believe he ever met me back then, simply arranged and pulled strings from afar.”

“I would rend his head from his shoulders if I could.” Jon growled. Sansa stood up, placing an arm on his shoulder.

“And I appreciate that immensely.” It was with a soft smile that she looked down upon him. “But for now, we must settle with you keeping watch over me.”

“Always.”  Their eye contact was broken as Sansa turned away, reclaiming her spot on the padded bench against the wall.

“Eventually I will need to do more than sing songs and talk sweetly. Will you think less of me then?” it was a real fear that she held, for Sansa counted Jon’s opinion more than most others. The idea of him being repulsed or disgusted by her was unbearable.

“No. You do what you must, and I will be here for you no matter what.” A curious thing about Jon was how openly he spoke about matters. His earnestness made him an open book, ripe for exploitation and yet Sansa had never tried to manipulate the man. She appreciated his lack of ulterior motives and honesty too much.

“As a guard or a friend?” she dared ask.

“Whichever you want.”

“I am lucky to have you with me Jon Snow.” Finally, a real smile appeared on Sansa’s face. It was beautiful and Jon relished in it.

Of course no good moment lasted forever, and a firm knock on the door echoed throughout the small space surprising the two occupants into action. Jon quickly moved to a corner and became the ever watchful guard he was meant to be as Sansa moved their cups back onto a shelf. Quickly patting her dress down, she moved to the door and cracked it open. Her sister Arya burst into the room immediately, leaving Sansa to close the door behind her.

“Did he touch you?”

“Not inappropriately.” Sansa promised. Arya nodded sharply and went to take one of the cups down, making herself a tea without fanfare. Jon relaxed from his post in the corner minutely, no longer on guard. Sansa gave her sister space and waited for her next words.

“You do not look yourself.”

“These men do not want me as I am.” Sansa spoke truth, how she dressed now was a far cry from her preferred manner of dress that had been a necessity in the North.

“It did not have to be this way.” Arya grumbled, taking the seat Jon had previously occupied. “There were alternatives.”

“You would have died in those mines Arya and I would not take that chance. Even if we both worked there the money made would not be enough to keep Bran cared for, and you know that.” Perhaps Sansa’s tone was sharper than she intended, but this conversation was a well-trodden one that never ended in agreement between her and her sister.

“Then I should work too, we would make double the money and could leave sooner!”

“I would not have this be your fate. It is a burden I chose for myself, and I wish to spare you from it.”

Arya backed down from her frustration. “I do not think I could have kept my composure for more than 10 minutes around these leeches.” Sansa smiled, that was her sister. It was the fire and rebelliousness within Arya that she hoped to preserve during their time at King’s Landing.

“I hope you will at least stay far away from Joffrey? That little brat is vile.” Arya said with a mock gag, prompting a giggle from her sister.

“I am afraid I need to use him to get to his uncle. Having leverage within the Kingsguard will be invaluable.” The older sister was apologetic at that, knowing neither Jon nor Arya would be happy about it.

“What use is Jaime Lannister to you? He moons over his  _sister_ too much to be distracted by you, no matter how entrancing you are.”

“She also keeps him on a tight leash; I doubt he is even allowed to host courtesans.” Jon added helpfully.

“I have a plan, do not worry yourselves too much about this.” She waved off their concerns easily. “Now Arya, I have answered your questions so you can answer one of mine: how are your studies going?” Her sister groaned and Sansa smiled, this at least was comfortable territory for them. It was almost like being home.

Around an hour later it was once more just Jon and Sansa in her apartment. “I suppose it is time for bed.” Sansa said reluctantly. Jon rose immediately and offered to leave. “Perhaps you could stay and share my bed?” her face burned with embarrassment once she asked, but she would not take back her words. She found that she did not wish to be parted from Jon on this particular night.

“Lady Sansa, the noblemen will not think highly of you if it were to get out that you shared your bed with me.” his tone was regretful, which emboldened Sansa.

“We are doing nothing scandalous, and they ought not to know that we shared a bed this night. No one watches these apartments, and it is not uncommon for bodyguards to share spaces with their charges.” With a heavy sigh and a small smile, Jon agreed at last.

Satisfied, Sansa stood and began removing the cloth draped over her. Seeing her undress, Jon blushed scarlet and turned to face the wall.  _Ever the gentleman._ “I am decent.” She softly announced once changed into a modest nightgown. Moving to the small mirror that was above her bed and began undoing her intricate hairdo. In the reflection of the mirror she caught sight of Jon undressing to his underclothes. Even covered his body was impressive and she turned her attention back to the task at hand before he caught her staring. Once done, her hair tumbled down her back in curly waves.

In her basic nightgown with no jewels or silks, Sansa felt comfortable and herself for the first time that night. Relieved, she got into her bed and turned to face Jon. “I will not bite you.” She joked, patting the hard mattress next to her lightly in invitation. Jon settled next to her on his back. “I admit that this bed is much more comfortable than my usual one in the scholae.” He commented. The bed was large enough for two, but still only held a thin mattress placed upon a hard stone base.

“Well you must have been sleeping on rock then if this is better.” Sansa attempted to joke, but the close proximity to Jon was distracting. Using all the courage she had, she moved so that her head rested on his chest. He froze momentarily, before forcibly relaxing himself and bringing one arm around her shoulders. They both drifted to sleep like that, content for the moment.


	4. Chapter 4

“Your debut went as expected my dear, I have been inundated with requests for your presence by various nobles.” Lucia smiled proudly.

“I think you are mostly to thank for that,  _domina.”_ Sansa said politely.

“Nonsense, you are beautiful and charming. You are a natural darling, and that cannot be taught. Take pride in your abilities, for they are yours and yours alone.” Lucia was always reminding Sansa to be confident in herself, and she appreciated the encouragement from the more experienced woman. “Now we must choose who will be your next patron out of these offers. I think the most worthwhile candidates at this time are Lord Baelish and Tycho Nestoris.”

“Lord Baelish has made a second request already?” Sansa did not bother concealing her surprise.

“You must have impressed him my dear, he has invited you to a private luncheon.”

“And this Tycho Nestoris? I am unfamiliar with his name, is he part of the nobility?”

“He is the representative for the Iron Bank in Kings Landing, and the only known emissary between the Bank and our King. He has asked you to accompany him to a small soiree organised by the King, most likely as a power play.” Sansa absorbed all of the information Lucia provided, eager to have as much political awareness as possible.

“I would certainly wish to accompany Tycho to that meeting then. I would not wish to decline Lord Baelish’s kind offer either, could I please accept both?”

“Of course Sansa, I did not wish to overwhelm you with too much at once is all. If you wish to you can certainly attend to both matters. The soiree is tomorrow night, and the Luncheon a few more days out still. You will have this day to yourself; I will send messages to the interested parties accepting their offers at once.”

Sansa nodded and took her leave, Jon following a few metres behind as always. Instead of taking the well-trodden path back to her small apartment, she took the main road that lead into the bustling city centre.

“May I ask where we are going my lady?” Jon asked from behind her, using the increased crowd to move closer than was otherwise acceptable.

“I wish to learn more of the Iron Bank, I am afraid in the North I was not well acquainted with them. This meeting sounds important and it would not do to be ignorant of anything that is happening.” She replied, weaving between the people milling about the marketplace with ease. She made her way to the library and entered, Jon moving back to a more respectable distance. Theirs was a well practiced dance, and as always they executed it perfectly together.

Jon could not help but admire his charge as she walked through the shelves of books purposefully. Her knowledge of politics was already unparalleled by most in her standing, but he knew that Sansa would never be satisfied with just that. Whilst Jon himself never had the patience or inclination for politics, it was obvious that the red head was a natural. It only made him more determined to assist her in any way possible so that she could eventually be freed from the gilded cage that was her home now.

None of the people in this city were trustworthy in Jon’s opinion, Sansa and Arya the obvious exception, and as such he was always on watch and on guard for people of ill intent. With Sansa involved, he found himself even more watchful than ever – the consequences of going lax with her safety could be severe and he would not lose her like that.

When Sansa had first been taken in by Lucia she was a different woman. Broken was not the right word to use, as Jon did not believe she ever could be broken, but hurt. Whilst he knew no details of her time with Ramsay Bolton he had seen enough to know that it had been horrific. Still there was an undeniable strength and spirit about her that had caught Lucia’s eye. Jon was the domina’s own private guard but she transferred him quickly to be Sansa’s personal guard. Not many people could cause such an action from Lucia.

“What do you know of the Iron Bank Jon?” Sansa asked whilst she browsed for relevant books in the shelves. Jon had been lost in his thoughts so almost missed the question aimed at him and had to think for a moment.  _What_ do  _I know of the Iron Bank?_

_ “ _ Little I am afraid.” He said honestly, “I am aware that they have a reputation for always collecting their dues and next to nothing will stand in the way of that. Anyone who cannot repay a debt to the bank will surely pay somehow.”

“And I imagine any representative of the bank will be particularly sharp?” Sansa mused.

“I doubt he would miss much.” He agreed.

Sansa pulled a heavy tome off the shelf and placed it on a nearby table with a heavy  _thunk._ Flipping it open, she began to read the contents as quickly as possible. There was precious little of note within the pages, but she was able to get an idea of the institution and it’s goals and policies. Hours went by before she was satisfied that there would be no more information to find from the tomes.

“I believe I should visit the baths Jon, to ensure I am ready for tomorrow night.”

“Of course.”

“You can take rest of the day; perhaps meet me back at my apartments tomorrow afternoon? You have been watching me nonstop recently and you must recharge to be at your best tomorrow.” She suggested carefully, aware that her guard would not be keen on leaving her for so long.

“My lady I do not – “

“Jon. You need a break, and you cannot follow me into the women’s baths anyway. Take this opportunity and unwind, please.” Sansa turned to look Jon in the eyes pleadingly.

“Alright then my lady, but I will accompany you to the baths at least.” He finally relented, seeing the wisdom in her suggestion if not fully comfortable with it. She agreed to his terms and they walked together to the upper city baths. They parted with quiet goodbyes at the door, and Sansa entered the baths alone.

Walking to the greeter, Sansa smiled and introduced herself. She expected to be directed to the female bathing area that had room, but was instead told to go upstairs to the private baths.

“I am sorry, I think you are mistaken. I do not have the means to access those baths.” Sansa bowed her head respectfully. Those baths were provided at a premium that few but the highest nobles could afford.

“If you are Sansa Stark, then the baths are yours.” Mystified, Sansa accepted her words.  _I do not know of anyone in this city aside from Jon and Lucia who are aware of my surname._ She pushed aside those musings and ascended the stairs.

A servant was awaiting her at the top of the stairs and guided her down cool marble halls and gestured for her to enter a small sunlit room at the end.

“Your dry heat room, my lady. Please go into the adjoining room once you have steamed enough. Take all of your clothes off first if you would, and leave them outside the room. I will take them to the other room for you.”  Sansa nodded her understanding and the servant left quietly. Once alone, Sansa took off her plain clothes and kicked off her sandals before walking into the room.  _Dry heat is the correct term_ she thought as the hot air blasted her immediately.

Carefully she sat down on the blessedly cool bench. It took only two minutes before she was sweating profusely and her pale skin was becoming flushed pink. Deciding that she had experienced more than enough of that, Sansa moved on to the adjoining room where there was a plunge pool. She assumed it was to cool off, and stepped into it quickly. The difference in temperature was startling but much appreciated, and she dragged herself out somewhat reluctantly. There was another room connected to the network so she assumed that was the next one to enter, and went through the door.

The servant from before was waiting there and Sansa could spy her clothes delicately folded to one side. The girl gestured for Sansa to enter another bath, this one shallower than the previous. Getting in, she was pleased to find that the water was tepid and not too hot or cold. The servant busied herself pouring vials of viscous liquid into the water. Based on the scents that were beginning to fill the room, Sansa assumed that it was a variety of scented oils that she was being treated to.

“Please sit here until I return, we will begin scraping next.” The servant bowed before leaving.

Scraping was a practice Sansa was aware of, a method of removing dead cells from the skin. Comfortable that she knew what was happening next she took the opportunity to relax and enjoy the experience for the time being. She was uncertain how much time passed before two servants entered the room – the one she had met previous and a new girl.

“This is for you to read my lady.” One of them held out a sealed letter, which Sansa took with damp hands. Thumbing it open she began to read it in one hand, holding out the other for the girls to begin using their Stirgels on.

_ Dear Sansa, _

_ I hope you are not offended that I took the liberty of indulging you in a little luxury before our outing tomorrow night. Consider it a gift, or an advance thank you for your company. I have also left a parcel which one of the serving girls will give you when you leave, please do me the honour of wearing the contents to our dinner. I will pick you up from your apartment at 5 in the eve. _

_ The best, _

_ Tycho _

__

Putting the note aside, Sansa considered her patron’s words as the servants continued moving her body and limbs as they pleased to continue scraping. A small part of her wondered what the reaction would be if she wore something other than what was given to her, but she knew that would not serve her well. Tycho would have chosen something that suited the evening, and as it was one that involved the royal family it would not do to put on anything but her best effort.

One girl gently asked her to tip her head back, which Sansa did.  Warm oil was then poured into her hair followed by a few rinses in water. Soon enough she was done with, feeling stripped down do baby smooth skin once more. Rising out of the bath and accepting a fluffy towel to dry with Sansa economically redressed and exited the chambers. As the letter had stated she was handed a bundle on the way out, which she held very carefully on her journey home. Once back in her own apartment, she placed the parcel down with a curious look. The following night would prove interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so concludes this chapter - I feel as if I am going completely off the reservation with this story but I hope at least some of you enjoy it!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the dinner with Tycho! I enjoyed writing this chapter so much!

“Jon would you please come inside and assist me?” Sansa called out, loud enough to get Jon’s attention from his post outside of her apartment door.

“Of course, my lady.” Jon replied instantly, entering the apartment where Sansa was getting ready. Once inside, he blinked in shock at the sight of Sansa’s bare back facing him. Blushing furiously the guard turned to face the door. “Uh, what did you need me for my lady?”

“It is alright Jon, you do not need to turn away.” The redhead’s tone was amused, “I cannot lace up the bodice on this dress myself so I need you to do it for me please.” When Jon did not immediately answer she continued, “Surely you have some experience with corset laces?”

“Yes my lady. I – I will help you at once.” Jon moved forward with a heated face. He had undone and tied laces before of course, but in more intimate settings than he cared to admit to Sansa. She was waiting patiently, looking into the small mirror held above her bed. Breathing deeply, Jon approached and began to pull the laces tight starting from the bottom. It was impossible to ignore the expanse of pale skin that was exposed and he worked to still the trembling of his fingers as he tied the laces.  _Focus on something else_ he reminded himself.

The bodice was made of a soft velvet, a purple colour so dark it almost appeared black. The skirt of the dress flared from the bodice more than most styles found in King’s Landing. As such it extenuated Sansa’s small waist beautifully –  _stop thinking like that!_ He reprimanded himself. Sooner than he would have liked he was finished lacing the bodice, and Sansa spoke in approval before turning around.

That made thinking respectable thoughts much harder for Jon. The bodice was tight enough and low enough that it accentuated the swell of Sansa’s breasts beautifully, pushing them upwards slightly and enhancing the cleavage in a way that made it hard to look away. A triangular front panel on the bodice further accentuated her frame and was made of a mauve fabric, the same colour lined the edges of the skirt and the bell sleeves of the dress.

Sansa’s hair was only half pulled back from her face allowing it to flow mostly freely down her back.

“How do I look? It is different from the King’s Landing style of dress but was supplied by tonight’s patron himself.”

“You look as stunning as always.”

“So you think I look stunning normally?” Sansa grinned cheekily, her uncertainty wiped away at his honesty. Seriously, Jon was such an open book it was almost embarrassing for him.

“Y-yes of course. Anyone would.” He was flustered now, and she could not resist teasing him further.

“Well I am not asking about anyone, I am asking about you Jon Snow.” She stepped closer, closer than could be considered appropriate for their positions.

Blessedly Jon was saved from answering by a soft knock on the door.

“I imagine that will be your patron.” He breathed out. Disappointment flickered across Sansa’s face before she schooled it into her usual polite smile.

“I imagine so.”

She gathered up her skirts and opened the door, unsurprised to see Tycho Nestoris on the other side. He was dressed in similar dark velvet to her, in an outfit she imagined was typical of Braavos nobility. A carriage could be spotted further behind him.

“Hello, my Lord.” Sansa curtsied deeply in greeting. Once she rose, she held out her hand which the man took and placed a kiss on to.

“Lady Sansa, you can do away with such honourifics for me tonight, you can simply call me Tycho. You can do this in front of everyone at the dinner as well, if you would my lady?”

“If that would please you, but surely that means you do not need to call me ‘my lady’?”

“We both know the importance of our Royal hosts seeing you be respected, so I will keep calling you as such.” His insight impressed Sansa, and she took his offered hand.  Tycho led her to the waiting carriage.

Once safely ensconced in the carriage (Jon chose to ride at the front with the driver) Sansa decided to get information. “How do you want me to act tonight, is there anything specific you expect from me?” She had a distinct feeling that the banker was not one to appreciate beating around the bush. His pleased smile proved her correct.

“I simply need you to act as your normal charming self.” He paused to consider his next words, “It is fair to warn you that the evening might be tense. It was arranged to intimidate me, the Royal family refuses to accept that they do not wield the power in this situation.”

“How so?”

“How much do you know of the Iron Bank and our business in King’s Landing?”

Sansa took a moment to think about how much she wanted to divulge to the man. Usually it served her best to hide the extent of her knowledge but Tycho clearly was not someone easily misled or fooled. He also knew her real name in full, which made him powerful.

“I know that the Iron Bank rarely sends anyone as a representative unless money is owed, and that their power is far reaching. For a representative to be sent also means that the situation is being taken seriously and their presence is as good as a direct threat in some circumstances.” Sansa held her breath, praying she had not spoken too much.

“Then you have a greater grasp on the situation than the King and his family do. I chose you as my company for a reason Lady Stark, and I am pleased that my hunch was correct. I will let you in on a secret – we are owed millions in gold dragons.” Sansa was not sure what surprised her more, the use of her name or the amount owed.

“I am no Lady Stark.” She quickly said, unable to shake the concern that this was a trap. Such titles referred to an independent North that was no more, and it could be treason to speak as such.

“To many, you are. But that is for a later discussion I believe, your heritage is not something I will share around to others. I appreciate the delicate position you are in, and now you can appreciate mine.”

Sansa understood now, he put them on a level field. She knew something more than she should about him and his business in the city and likewise he knew something about her. The information sharing was his way of showing an equality of power between them.  _I like this man._ His words about the North would need to be revisited later, perhaps once they got through this night unscathed.

“I fear I have also been remiss, as I did not mention how absolutely beautiful you are tonight.” He said mildly, with none of the lecherous subtext that Sansa was used to

“I have you to thank for providing me with these clothes, and the private baths yesterday. I have not seen this style worn around this city much.”

“Ah well it is from my native land of Braavos, I thought you would wear them well. You have exceeded my expectations.”

Once they arrived at the Red Keep Tycho helped Sansa down for the carriage. A runner for the King was waiting for their arrival and led them inside with little fanfare.

“You will be supping in the personal dining area for the King tonight.” The runner informed them as they were taken through the winding hallways. Sansa took in as much of her surroundings as she could without drawing any attention to herself, and kept her arm linked with Tycho.

“Lord Nestoris of the Iron Bank and his guest.” The same runner announced their presence in the dining room.

“Your Grace, thank you for inviting me here tonight to partake in dinner with your family. May I introduce the wonderful Lady Sansa who was kind enough to provide me with company on this night.” Tycho bowed and kept one hand on the small of Sansa’s back as he did. She followed his lead and curtsied politely but stayed silent. A quick scan of the room showed King Robert Baratheon as well as Queen Cersei, Tywin Lannister and Ser Jaime. None appeared to expect Sansa’s presence there.

None of these people inspired respect from Sansa, they were all instrumental in their own ways for the loss of Northern Independence and as such were marred with the same tainted brush. Robert Baratheon was a known drunkard and fool who was pushed around by Tywin Lannister, who relied on the gold of his House to get his way. Cersei was vicious and uncaring, holding an inflated sense of power that was not earnt. Her disdain for the North was well established and whilst there was no evidence yet, Sansa had a hunch that she was involved in her sale to the Bolton’s. Perhaps Ser Jaime was not as bad as the rest, but he was clearly controlled by his sister which made him dangerously foolish in Sansa’s eyes.  

Both parties looked at each other for a time without speaking, and soon Sansa had enough.

“Perhaps we could take a seat? Tycho and I have had an arduous journey here.” A fabrication, but she could not ignore the opportunity to remind the King and his retinue of basic courtesy.

“Of course my Lady, food will be coming shortly.” It was Ser Jaime that seemed embarrassed, and he took the effort to stand and bow to them both.

“I am sorry about our rudeness; I did not expect you to bring a guest.” King Robert shrugged.

“I apologise if I misinterpreted my invitation, it mentioned that I could bring company so I did.” Tycho replied with easy nonchalance.

“I suppose we thought that you did not know anyone in the City, it did not occur to us that you would hire such company.” Cersei spoke with a sickeningly sweet tone.

“Well I hope I can be forgiven. It is not every day that I have the opportunity to spend time with the Dove of the North. I had to take this chance – I am sure you would understand.” Cersei’s eyes sharpened at that.

“The North you say? A courtesan from the North in King’s Landing – what a queer concept. Where did you hail from in the North?”

“Oh you would not have heard of my family, My Grace. We were a small… tribe you could say.” Sansa lied sweetly.

“You are quite right.” Cersei waved her off, “I cannot keep up with the movements of all of the tribes. Such violence and chaos can come from the Northerners.”

Sansa seethed on the inside but controlled her emotions externally – it was one of her specialties now. Of course Cersei had to keep talking.

“I had wondered what inspired the bizarre clothing you are wearing tonight. Is this what counts as finery to your tribe?” Sansa could tell Tycho was about to intervene but beat him to it.

“Actually I requested this specially from Tycho. I have always loved the opulence and quality of Braavisi design and he was kind enough to have this delivered for me. So it is actually a creation from his home City.”

“That is true – I engaged the services of the Iron Bank’s personal tailor to have this created in Lady Sansa’s size and had it expedited here in time for dinner. A costly expense but surely worth it I can assure you.” Tycho smiled, picking up on Sansa’s plan.

“I am sure my King you understand that there is nothing quite like dressing a woman in clothing of your colours to indicate your esteem of them.” It took all of Sansa’s willpower to contain her laugh at that while Cersei’s face soured as if she had eaten a lemon whole. King Robert regularly paraded his mistresses in the black and gold colours of his House, whilst Cersei was never given the same honour.

“Right you are Lord Nestoris!” King Robert was never one to understand subtlety. “And a fine woman you have at your side tonight.” Food was carried in by servants as he said that and at the blessing of the King everyone began eating. There were pleasantries exchanged, and it was only after the food was cleared that Tywin Lannister took his turn to speak.

“I suppose it is best to move on to the business part of our meeting.” He admitted with feigned reluctance.

“Right you are Lord Tywin.” Tycho agreed.

“Maybe this is not a conversation your companion should be present for.” Tywin suggested looking at Sansa pointedly.

“I am not opposed to her presence but certainly if it would make you more comfortable, she can leave but I would need to assist she be accompanied by Ser Jaime. He does not need to be party to these discussions, and I would feel more comfortable with her in his care.”

Cersei looked to object but was stopped by a glare from Tywin who agreed, dismissing Jaime with a wave of his hand.

“You may leave with him for now my Lady, I will seek you out later. It would do you well to get along with Jaime here.” Tycho whispered in Sansa’s ear – quiet enough that it could be mistaken for simple encouragement. With a small smile she nodded in agreement and stood from the table, following Jaime’s lead and exiting the room.


	6. Chapter 6

The silence was tense between Jaime and Sansa, and it was not because of her. After leaving the dining room, the knight had led her towards a sitting room and invited her to get comfortable. Jon stood outside the room, posted at the door at her request. While she sat down on one of the chaise lounges, he stood stiffly by the door. He had not uttered a word after that.  _ I need to test if he is attracted to me at all.  _ Sansa thought, and settled on an easy and perhaps unsophisticated approach.

 

Bending over slightly, the redhead cocked her head to one side as she did to allow an uninterrupted gaze at her cleavage (if one so desired to look). She reached down and fiddled with the lace on her short heeled shoes, deftly untying and retying the knot and taking her time in doing so. Deciding that she had spent long enough, Sansa brushed imaginary creases from her skirts and slowly rose up. Her head was still facing down but she looked up at Jaime through her lashes. She had to smother the smile that threatened her face when she saw his gaze stuck at her bosom. His mouth was slightly ajar and he was clearly enraptured.

 

Sitting up straight again, she allowed the knight time to compose himself before obviously turning her attention back to him. “Why do you not sit also, Ser Jaime?” she asked innocently while gesturing at the chair opposite, “there are no Kings to guard here. You are allowed a moment of respite.” He was clearly about to argue, but thought better of it and took the seat opposite.

“All of that armour must not be comfortable to wear for such long periods of time.” Sansa winced sympathetically. 

“Aye, it is not comfortable but it is a necessity.” Jaime responded, still awkward.

“Is something the matter, Ser Jaime? Have I done something to make you uncomfortable, or perhaps my profession is not one you find palatable?”

 

“Not at all!” The vehement denial did not surprise Sansa, she had a feeling he was a man more inclined to noble thoughts and actions. More likely to pity her than judge.  _ How little they all know _ .

“I simply – I wish to apologise for the actions of my nephew at Lord Baelish’s party. He can be… unpleasant and I wish he had not behaved as such in front of you.”

“No apologies are required Ser, but thank you. I appreciate you stepping in when you did.” Relief washed over Jaime’s face at her words. “If my own guard needed to step in then I doubt he would consider me for future patronage – when he is not addled by drink of course.” Sansa finished her sentence with a little giggle. A pained look crossed the knight’s face.

 

“What is it Ser? Do you find the idea of someone hosting me so distasteful?” Normally such forward challenging was an unwise course of action, however Jaime was a knight and was renowned for his honour. Sansa continued with feigned hurt, “Perhaps I am not attractive enough for your tastes, but I like to believe I have a certain amount of charm to make up for that.” She broke eye contact and looked down whilst blinking rapidly, curling her shoulders in and fiddling with the hem of her sleeves.

 

A clanking of metal almost startled her from her act, but it was Jaime kneeling on the floor in front of her that finally caused her to look up. Panic was clear on his face.  _ I suppose if the rumours are true then his sister has been his only lover... He may not be used to socializing with other women.  _ Sansa pondered, looking at his face searchingly.

“It is not that at all, my lady! You are beautiful, stunning even it is just –“Jaime silently cursed himself for his words “My nephew is not someone you want to be alone with. He can act reprehensibly even unaided by drink. I warn you to be cautious around him, and if he seeks your services you should turn him down.” His voice was low and tone urgent, sincerity and stress bleeding through.

 

Probably deciding he had said too much for the time being, Jaime swiftly returned to his previous seat – putting distance between them once more.

“I am still only recently debuted Ser Jaime. I appreciate your warning, but if Lord Joffrey chooses to be my patron I am not in a position to refuse.” A lie, but an easy one to get out. Jaime would be unlikely to hire her without incentive due to his sister’s control, but the right incentive can be found for any man. For some it is sex, but for one such as Jaime – perhaps protectiveness would be the right call.

“Surely you can speak with your domina about this, she would understand!” Jaime insisted.  _ Lucia certainly would, and I doubt she would even entertain the notion of Joffrey having my company.  _ Sansa thought.

 

“She might, but in the absence of other offers I lack the position to choose who I accompany this early on. Perhaps if other people were attempting to spend time with me I would have more of a say but otherwise my hands are tied.” Oh – Jaime looked crestfallen at that, but also thoughtful. “Truly, I thank you for your consideration of me. It means much to have a man look out for my wellbeing, and it is a nice change.” Sansa smiled and leant towards him, his eyes flicking to her cleavage and back to her face unbidden.

“This might be fretting over nothing as it is.” Jaime attempted to dismiss “We do not know what will come to pass, and what Joffrey wishes is up to anyone’s guess.”

“Hopefully so – either way I will deal with what comes as best as I am able to. I am comforted that there are honourable men in the world still.”

 

Whatever Jaime was about to say to that was interrupted by a knock. “My lady, I have been informed that you may return to the dining room.” Jon’s voice carried through. Jaime stood to attention promptly, even offering an arm to assist Sansa in standing also.

“You first, my lady.” He gestured to the door, opening it with one hand. Sansa curtsied shallowly and went through. Jaime took the lead after that, being more familiar with the halls of the Red Keep than they were.

 

“Ah the Dove has joined us once more!” King Baratheon’s face was ruddy, perhaps with drink.

“I hope the two of you had a lovely chat?” Cersei asked icily.

“I am afraid not my Queen, I took the opportunity to freshen up a little.” Sansa smiled, it would not do to be on the wrong side of the Queen.

“I found myself having a fascinating conversation with the guard here, Jon.” Jaime picked up and continued the lie smoothly. While he loved his sister, she could be prone to fits of jealousy and even a short innocent conversation could bring her ire down on Sansa.

 

Cersei actually appeared pleased and mollified by that and the duo returned to the table – Jon staying standing near the door. A quick scan around the room showed that Tywin had a similar redness to his face, borne from displeasure instead of alcohol. Tycho looked rather pleased as well, so she could only imagine that he had gotten what he wanted from the meeting. Sansa supposed that she had too.

 

Dessert was eventually brought to the table, and mild small talk took over. Sansa declined to partake in the offered dessert wine, as did Tycho. He made their excuses after a proper time had passed and the two left the Red Keep arm in arm, cheerfully bidding goodbye to the King and his family.

“I am not sure about you but I feel like a walk after all of that food, may I request your company? I can walk you home.” Sansa readily accepted the offer and they walked down the empty moonlit streets of Kings Landing, Jon a silent shadow behind.

 

“Did the meeting go well Tycho?” 

“Not in the slightest.” Came the cheerful reply from the banker. Sansa blinked in surprise.

“Then why are you so pleased?”

“Well my dear, it has become abundantly clear that the crown simply cannot pay back the debt owed in a reasonable timeframe.”

“What happens now then?” She was curious.

“Nothing for now. Shortly though, it will be time for new Rulers. The Baratheon rule, and the Lannister rule for that matter, will be over with eventually.” This was treasonous talk, and Sansa did not take it lightly that she was being told this. “When that time comes, a united and independent North will be important. A true Northern Queen will help with that.” The breath caught in Sansa’s lungs.

 

“And why would the Iron Bank care about a Northern Queen?” she managed to squeak out. 

“The ignorance of our King and Queen in subjugating the North has led to dangerous instability and almost riotous actions. They focus attention on quelling that, and gold as well as men are lost in the process. A free North means less pressure on the Iron Throne and more of a chance to recoup our loans. I also have happened across the right person to be that ruler when the time comes.” Tycho smiled mischievously at Sansa.

 

“This is dangerous talk Tycho. I feel that we may have complimentary needs though. My position is tenuous, and any outward favour from the Iron Bank would ill serve me at this time.”

“Something I understand completely. I may still host you – there is nothing questionable about that, but we work well under discretion I can assure you. I will help you as best I can until the time is right, and I hope that we can work together.” Sansa considered his words. The Iron Bank and Tycho by default would be strong and important allies for her. She felt that he was trustworthy, which was uncommon in this City.  _ I have gotten this far by trusting my judgement, I will continue as such. _

 

“We may have an accord Tycho – but surely you want more in return than my assistance?” The underlying question was clear. Did he want her physically as payment?

“Whilst you are truly a beauty, I am not that way inclined.” It was spoken as a mock whisper, and Sansa found herself unsurprised by his revelation. 

“Of course, I understand.” Her smile was genuine and warm, not one that was shared with others easily nowadays.

 

“Now, to ensure the utmost security and privacy for you we will need to arrange new accommodation.” Tycho slipped back into a business-like tone.

“Wait, what?”


	7. Chapter 7

“How will we explain this to other patrons?” Sansa asked Lucia, uncertain how to proceed. She now had an entire Domus to herself, and barely knew what to do with the space.

“Well we will definitely not mention the Iron Bank my dear, which is asking for trouble.” Her domina replied as she looked around the atrium appreciatively. It was smaller than her own quarters, but still remarkable for a courtesan so freshly debuted. “I will simply spread a few rumours about an abroad noble who left this to you after his passing. The Bank did purchase this from a deceased estate so it does line up.”

“Do not worry yourself my dear, I promise that all will be well. You will face no opposition from women, and the male nobles will simply be annoyed that they were not the ones to put you up in a lavish house.” Lucia laid a hand on Sansa’s shoulder. “Now that you have the space Jon will stay here at all times. At least I know for certain you will be safe as he will never be more than a call away.”

“I do not wish to burden him, or tie him to me domina.” Sansa confessed.

“Sweetheart, he came to me with the request himself.” Relief flooded the redhead, and she smiled bashfully in spite of herself.

The two women moved to sit on a comfortable bench adorned with richly coloured cushions. Angled to face each other, their knees bumped. Neither minded the closeness.

“I fear I do not thank you enough for what you have done for me Lucia.” Sansa said sincerely.

“Please, there is nothing to thank me for.” The older woman smiled and waved off the gratitude.

“But there is.” She insisted, “After the Boltons I was destined for a cruel life – one you kept me and my sister from.”

“I could not allow such fire to be burnt out in the slave markets. It would not be right.” Lucia admitted, “You were still so alive in spite of everything. I only wish I could do more for you, this situation is still not near what you deserve.”

“You gave me a chance and a choice, two things none of the men I had been handled by thought to offer.”

“King’s Landing is not an easy place to be a woman, particularly one without a strong man by your side. We need to stick together.”

“I agree.”

“Now – we best wrap this up before Petyr Baelish collects you for the luncheon, he is always early.” Lucia’s tone became more business-like.

Both women stood and said their goodbyes, and soon Sansa was alone in the atrium. She made her way to the private chambers that she claimed and opened a single door which stood towards the back of the room. There was a small room through there which was meant to be used as a private wardrobe to keep her clothing in one place. Skimming through the dresses she owned, Sansa pulled out a lavender coloured one that was suited to summer in King’s Landing. Delicate gold trims decorated the sleeves and skirt, and the bodice wrapped around her. A pair of light brown flats were chosen for shoes as they were comfortable and would be mostly hidden by the skirts anyway.

For her hair, Sansa made one long braid which fell down her back and kept all of the hair out of her face. A practical hairstyle was suitable for a casual lunch. No sooner had she secured her hair back with a tie than the delicate chime of her arrival bell echoed through the home. She swept out of her room and towards the front door with Jon’s reassuring steps following wordlessly behind.  _He must have been in his room._ She supposed.

Giving her cheeks a quick pinch to rosy them, she kept her face neutral as she opened the door. Seeing Petyr on the other side, Sansa allowed a smile to unfold – hoping to look pleasantly surprised.

“Lord Baelish! I did not anticipate you so soon.”

“I apologise for intruding my Lady but I could barely refrain from seeing you.” The older man bowed shortly as he held his hand out for Sansa to take, which she did allowing him to place a kiss on the back.

“Well you are certainly flattering me my Lord. Shall we go? You will have to forgive the state of me, I was anticipating more time to get ready.” She said with a chuckle, already stepping out of her doorway.

“You look nothing short of stunning.” Petyr smiled, following her lead. “Now I hope you do not mind, but we shall be heading to lunch on foot.” Sansa quickly assured him that she did not mind and allowed him to take her on a winding path that lead out of the City. Her new home was located on the outskirts, allowing fresher air to be a short walk away.

Instead of following the road outwards to the countryside they stayed close to the city walls eventually nearing a forest that ran adjacent to a river. Pressing on, it was perhaps another half hour of walking and exchanging pleasantries before they reached a small clearing. Fabric covered the entire ground, with many blankets and pillows piled on top and multiple baskets that were overflowing with food. It was a large enough area, but looked so cozy in the way it had been set up.

“My Lord, this is wonderful!”

“I am glad you like it Dove, I thought that after the party a more quiet date was in order.” Petyr smiled, obviously pleased with her reaction.

“Guard, give us some privacy, I doubt Lord Baelish is a threat to me.” Sansa said sweetly, sparing only the briefest of glances towards Jon. Petyr would be more open and comfortable thinking they were alone and Jon would understand her meaning. She doubted he would be too far enough away to come and help if she needed. She kept her tone detached, not liking the manner in which the nobleman eyed Jon as he nodded and walked away into the trees.

“Loyal is he not?” He asked.

“My Domina pays very well to ensure my safety.” Sansa answered.

“Well, thank you for sending him off. I admit I look forward to spending time with you in a more private way.” His words were carefully phrased and Sansa knew she could take them one way or another. He was testing the waters.

“I trust you my Lord, and I look forward to this beautiful food.” Hard to get worked well at times she knew, and took a seat on a plush cushion. As she reached out to serve them both, Sansa was stopped by a gentle hand on her arm.

“Allow me.” Petyr said, before serving out the food himself. A selection of cheeses and figs were offered up as well as cured meats and sweet cakes to finish off. He also poured a generous serving of red wine for them both.

The food was rich and delicious, and Sansa did not need to fake her enjoyment. She asked surface level questions about his work for the King and other nobles and his family, careful not to dig too deep but to still give the impression that she was interested. Petyr puffed up in pride when she praised his accomplishments with his businesses and his finesse in working for what must be a ‘difficult King.’

“I imagine answering to his whims must be difficult my Lord.”

“Not as much as you might expect Dove, in fact he is easy to push in the right directions.” Petyr humbly bragged.

“Really? You must be incredibly clever to have the King listen to you!” Sansa exclaimed.

“Must I?” He chuckled, “My dear, forgive me! I realise we have talked about naught but me – you must tell me about your home and family. You are a Northerner are you not?”

Oh. This was not a discussion Sansa wanted to be having. “Nonsense my Lord, I enjoy hearing about your important work. I am boring in comparison.”

Petyr shook his head with a smile. “Nothing about you is boring my Dove – tell me, which family do you hail from?” A hundred panicked thoughts ran through Sansa’s mind but she kept herself composed. He could not have made the connection, and he seemed genuine in his interest.

“Well it was a small tribe that I was borne into, and it was a simple life that we led. Eventually my tribe was all killed and I was hired by Madame Lucia.” Vague and truthful, but Sansa needed to disrupt this line of questioning fast.

“I am sorry to hear that my Lady, losing family is very difficult.” He said softly.  _So is dining with someone who helped orchestrate their deaths_ Sansa allowed herself the bitter thought.

“Thank you – I apologise but it is a difficult topic for me to talk about still. That was a lifetime ago and I still manage to weep over it. What a child I am.” Sansa sniffed while brushing away her real tears – the fate of her family could always stir emotions in her.

Petyr moved closer and brushed away a tear with his finger. “No apologies are required my Dove, I do hate to see you so upset.” Sansa stared into his eyes and forced hesitation into her voice when she spoke.

“My Lord – Petyr –“She did not miss the catch in his breath at the use of his name.  _Too easy._ “I have a request of you; one that I am afraid may come across as improper. May I kiss you?” Sansa did not wait for a reply and leant in, catching his lips with hers in a gentle kiss.

He kissed her back, but gently. Sansa knew he would likely not move onto the next step, he seemed to hold onto a virginal view of her. Still, she wanted to distract him and at the same time give him something else to think of when his mind wandered to her. Knowing this she moved so that she was draped across his lap, he was still sitting so they had easy access to each other’s mouths. With care Sansa teased open Petyr’s mouth and deepened the kiss. His body was tense, muscles pulled taut in restraint.

Sansa separated their lips but kept a firm grip on the noble’s hair, guiding his mouth to press against the junction of her neck and shoulder. Instinctively Petyr latched on and she let out a high pitched whine at the sensation. Something Sansa had learnt during her training that worked well for her was that she was naturally very sensitive. Reactions did not need to be faked too much if men showed even a modicum of skill.

The sound clearly encouraged the older man, who trailed kisses all over her neck and even lightly bit on her earlobe, eliciting a pleased shudder from the young woman.

“O-oh, please!” Sansa panted out as Petyr explored her chest with one hand. Almost against his will his other hand reached around to steady on her arse – giving it a good squeeze in time with his other hand on her breast.

“Gods Sansa you are truly magnificent.” He groaned into her neck, not wanting to stop causing those delicious noises for once second. Internally, he was at odds with these actions, not wanting to sully her. At the same time though, she sounded like she had never been touched before and to be the one to do so – to bring her pleasure for the first time – that was too tempting to ever give up.

“Ah!” Sansa responded to the ministrations so perfectly. She could feel the growing hardness in his trousers and  _accidentally_ ground down as she writhed on top of him, eyes closed in pleasure. She latched on to another of her lessons – focus on the pleasures of your body over the pains of your mind. It was startlingly simple to lose yourself in pleasure when you wanted to, and so she did just that.

It was easier to focus on the sensation if it was not Petyr doing the touching, so her mind easily replaced his touch with Jon’s. She grabbed Petyr’s hair and pulled him into another kiss, panting into his open mouth as the intensity increased. With one hand, she reached for his that had settled on her arse and guided it under her skirts to her core.

“Dove, precious Dove you will kill me.” Petyr mumbled as he felt the hot wet center beneath his fingers, separated only by small clothes.

“Petyr! I think I am close!” Sansa was not telling a lie, the thought of Jon touching her there was sending her into a frenzy. This spurred Petyr on, and he looked up at Sansa as he sped up the movement of his fingers against her. They moved in clever circles causing her to moan at the rising pleasure within. His own cock was so hard it was agony, but his focus had to be all on her. She was bewitching, face turning red from the pleasure and flaming hair coming loose from her braid in the excitement.

“Oh! Oh, this is too much, Petyr!” With a final cry Sansa broke apart on top of him, still seated in his lap. Her face and the use of his names were too much to handle, and like an adolescent Petyr found himself spilling in his pants with a groaned expletive. It was such a powerful release that he found himself seeing black. Once the older man came too, he noticed that Sansa was still shivering above him. His fingers were still pressed against the scorching heat of her core and he did not want to move them just yet. This time Petyr was the one to pull her into a lazy kiss. Eventually he withdrew his fingers gently.

“I am so sorry my Lord, I lost control over myself.” Sansa kept her head down in shame.

“Please, I am glad you did. That was amazing Dove. You are a true wonder.” Petyr breathed, kissing her forehead gently.  “Although we do need to straighten you up so that you can go home – it might be best to look respectable.”

“But Petyr, what about you?”

“Do not worry over that, I found my end.”

“Oh.” Petyr laughed at the surprised look on her face and stood, hoping to get some control over himself. “I was hoping that I could feel you inside me.” and those words, with that soft angelic voice almost did him in again.

“Maybe next time. You have given me enough of a distraction for now.” He chuckled, helping Sansa to stand.

_ Good.  _ She thought.


	8. Chapter 8

Sansa kissed Petyr’s cheek in farewell before entering her home, Jon following and closing the main door behind him.

“Bolt it please.” Sansa spoke softly without inflection. Her guard obeyed without question.  Whilst he was busying himself with the barring mechanism, the redhead took herself to her private bathroom. An odd addition for a household, she was appreciative of it in situations such as this. The bath was situated within the floor in the center of the room, and could easily hold 5 people comfortably.  She reached up and opened the valve on one of the walls, causing water to rush into the bath from a pipe that descended from the ceiling.

 

Next Sansa let herself into the room adjacent and walked down a few steps to locate the furnace that ran under the floors to heat the rooms. She powered up the furnace that would heat the bath water and returned upstairs. Typically servants would do such work but Sansa loathed hiring permanent ones, not wanting to lose the little privacy she now had. More servants also meant more ears to any conversations that may be best kept discreet.

 

Whilst the bath was being heated, she brushed out her hair slowly and focused on the feeling to try and calm her mind. Then she removed her clothing. As Sansa began undoing the first of her many ties, she was overcome with the need to be free of the dress she wore and was soon ripping the articles off, with no care for the value of the garments. All she knew was that she needed to get free of the clothes, and quickly. Unfortunately in her haste she further tangled the ties that closed the bodice at her side and as Sansa struggled the knots got tighter, her hands shaking.

 

Somehow she found herself blinking back tears, unsure of the reason for it. _I am fine_ she desperately told herself. _Everything is fine, I did well today._ Strangely these reassurances were not enough and the tears broke free and began to flow down her cheeks.

“My lady?” Jon’s voice shocked Sansa, causing her to jump in fright and turn around with a startled expression. She saw his eyes take in her face and widen in realization at the tears.

“I cannot get out of this damned dress!” Sansa tried to downplay her upset and focus on the knots. She refused to look Jon in the eyes.

 

Gentle hands batted her own away and deftly set to work undoing the tie. “Let me.” Jon murmured. Soon enough he had the knots loosened and Sansa could unwrap the dress from her frame. With a swallow Jon turned around and while she appreciated the respect at this point her hands were shaking too much to be of use in removing her clothes.

 

“Jon, please help me take these off.” She requested quietly. He hesitated of course. “Please Jon. I need to get in the bath, I need to be cleaned.” Sansa’s voice took on a desperate edge without her bidding, and her guard was helpless to not comply. He kept his eyes glued on a patch of wall and removed the rest of her clothing, undoing the various bows and knots keeping it together. With a final rustle the last of her smallclothes were also pushed off, and Sansa wasted no time getting into her bath.

 

Jon heard the soft splash and then nothing. Supposing that the coast was now clear, he allowed himself to look at the bath – intent on excusing himself from the room. Sansa was under the water, wetting her hair he supposed. She did not rise though. He waited a few long moments but the redheaded beauty did not break the surface of the water. _Is she drowning? Why would she do that?_ Jon thought in a panic. He could not allow any more time to pass, and took off his armour until he was in his underclothes.

 

Jon all but leapt into the bath, and was taking a breath in preparation for diving under the water when Sansa resurfaced at long last.

“Jon?” she asked, confused.

“I am sorry my lady, I thought something had happened and you were drowning.” Jon panted, the panic having made him breathless.

 

“I apologise for causing concern, I needed a moment.” Sansa’s face was a mess of emotions, and Jon had no idea how to help. He did not want to overstep any boundaries by asking but also did not wish for her to suffer alone. Before he could say anything, she spoke. “You heard us didn’t you?”

“Heard what?” Jon was honestly confused for a moment.

“Baelish and I.” _Oh, that._ Jon had indeed heard them, and it must have shown on his face.

 

“I must disgust you now.” Sansa whispered, looking into the water and wrapping her arms around herself.

“You will never disgust me.” Jon said. It was nothing more or less than the truth. He understood Sansa’s position and her duties more than anyone (aside from Lucia perhaps) and it did not affect his thoughts or opinion of her. This was survival nothing more and the guard struggled to think about the consequences if Sansa was not fulfilling her duties in this way.

 

If anything, Sansa’s patrons disgusted him. Those who would use her body for their own pleasure and as a status symbol – who wanted nothing more than the perfect accessory or toy to show off to their friends. Men like Baelish – they were the issue. Not her, never her.

“I just allowed the man who destroyed my family bring me to climax, and returned the favour. The man who sold me off to the Boltons and put me in this cursed city. I initiated it. I disgust myself.” Sansa found more tears coming to the fray as she spoke. It was true, and she hated herself for what she had just done. What she needed to keep doing in order to survive.

 

Jon’s arms encircled her, and she had a moment to consider that he was still fully clothed and soaked through before he spoke.

“None of this is your fault. You are doing what you must, not only for yourself but for Arya. I will never think any less of you for anything you do. Baelish – he is a brute – but you are not to shoulder the blame for that. Please believe me my lady.” Jon hoped his words would get through as they came from his heart.

 

Sansa finally looked into his eyes, assessing how honest her guard was being. She saw no deception. _Of course I did not, Jon never lies to me._ “Thank you Jon.” She managed a watery smile at last. “Now your clothes are all wet though.” He let loose a small chuckle.

“Well someone scared me enough to jump in fully clothed.”

“Sorry for scaring you. But I will not lie and say that I gain no comfort from knowing that you are nearby to help.”

“Always.” Jon promised looking directly at her. He would always be nearby to watch her. “Although I am aware that you can take care of yourself.” He added.

 

“That is true. And what of you Jon? Do you not need to be taken care of at times?” Jon swallowed, realising just how close they were. Sansa’s hair was wet and he unconsciously followed the path of a water drop as it travelled down her neck and her collarbone… The water hid nothing and he could make out the outline of her soft breasts, rosy nipples just beneath the water. Realising what he was doing, Jon snapped his head back up, only to be met by a knowing smile from Sansa.

 

The redhead began unlacing his tunic and Jon was in such a daze that he did not stop her even as it was pulled over his head. It was the feeling of her fingers trailing down his bare chest and towards his pants that finally slammed his mind back to reality – the fog clearing for a moment.

“Sansa, we should not do this.” He did not move to stop her, afraid that if he touched her skin he would lose the last of his tenuous self-control.

“If you truly are uncomfortable with me, then say the word and I shall stop.” Sansa had no desire to do anything without his consent.

“I want to – gods forgive me but I want to. We simply cannot.”

“And why not?” Sansa pulled down his pants as she spoke. Jon helped her by getting his legs out, almost without thought.

“You cannot be sullied by me.” Sansa let out a bright laugh at that.

 

“Jon,” she took hold of his face in both hands “you are truly the first man with whom I want to lay with. Allow my word to be enough for you.” She leant toward him and kissed his lips, ever so gently. In that moment, Jon felt the last of his control snap into nothing.

_Gods help me._


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! I hope this does not disappoint.

_Finally!_ Sansa thought to herself as Jon allowed himself to kiss her back. She was thrilled at the passion he put into the kiss and met it with eagerness of her own. She was wrapped up in the idea of choosing to have sex with Jon, and she was aroused already. Her arms wrapped around Jon’s neck as she bought herself closer to him, moaning at the way his clothing rubbed against her nipples. She could not get enough of him suddenly and pulled ineffectually at his clothes.

 

Jon pulled away, eliciting a whine from Sansa. “Slow down, we have time. I want to take my time with you.” He said as he cupped her face with one hand, running his thumb over her cheek as she leant into the touch. “You do not have to think or plan with me. There is no rush here. Do not hesitate to tell me what you want. Please?” The last part was a whispered plea, one that she had no choice but to nod to.

 

“Can you take your clothes off?” She asked without hesitation. Jon stepped back and did as she asked, looking into her eyes the entire time with an intensity that he was careful to shield her from before now.

“Can we move to your bed Sansa?” he asked once completely bare. It was Sansa’s turn to nod as she spun around and stepped out of the bath. Jon greedily took in the sight of her pale skin and wondered how much of the blush could be attributed to him or the hot water. He imagined that he could happily spend hours looking at her body. Facing away as she was his eyes were drawn to her exquisite arse.

“Are you coming Jon?” the teasing tone of voice Sansa used suggested that it was not the first time she had asked that question.

 

With much less grace, Jon clambered out of the bath and followed Sansa’s lead to her bedroom. She lay on the bed, inching towards the centre. Jon made to follow, but was stopped by a soft hand on his chest. The small touch alone was enough to cause his muscles to tense in anticipation.

“Stand back Jon, I want to see you.” Jon doubted he could ever deny her and so stood back with his hands clenched to fists by his side.

 

Sansa catalogued every muscle she saw, all the visible scars and marks that indicated her guard’s strength. Her gaze wandered to his erect cock, and warmth pooled between her legs at the sight of it. He was thick and long, and she desperately wanted to feel him inside of her.

 

Jon could see the heat in her eyes, and where she was looking. The throbbing heat of his own cock was maddening, so desperate he was to be inside her. He was held in place though, as she had not told him to move yet. He wanted to obey her.

“Jon, please do not take this the wrong way but I do not think I have the patience for anything short of your cock in my pussy now.” Sansa was breathless, and Jon let out a groan of need at her words.

“I want to be inside you so badly Sansa.” He said.

“Come on then.”

 

Taking that as permission, Jon lunged forward and covered Sansa’s body with his own, both of them letting out a moan at the skin to skin contact which was quickly lost within their next passionate kiss. It lacked Sansa’s usual finesse but Jon found it all the more intoxicating as a result. The young woman crossed her legs behind his back and began undulating her hips.

“Please get inside me.” She pulled away from the kiss to beg.

“I will not last long enough.” Jon groaned, kissing his way to her collarbone and being wary to not leave any marks as he did.

“I do not care, I just want to feel you Jon.” Sansa moaned as she grabbed onto his arse in encouragement.

 

Jon could deny this woman nothing and in one long thrust buried himself to the hilt within her. His head dropped down and his arms began shaking with exertion as he desperately tried to hold back his own orgasm. His pride would not allow him to finish before Sansa had at least once. Her pussy clenched around him, warm and wet. _I could spend forever like this_ he thought with a touch of hysteria.

“Me too.” Sansa gasped. Obviously he had said that out loud.

 

He knew what she would ask next and decided to grant them both what they wanted, so began to move. Slow but hard thrusts that sent them both up the bed inch by inch. Sansa threw her head back and moaned beautifully each time he did, her eyes closing in pleasure.

“Look at me Sansa.” Jon begged, and she did as he asked without hesitation.

“Jon, oh Jon!” She cried out with half lidded eyes.

 

The force of Jon’s thrusts increased, but he maintained his steady pace. It seemed to do the trick, Sansa wrapping her arms and legs around him as if she was trying to fuse them together as one. Her voice was rising in pitch and Jon hoped it was because she was close – he would not be able to hold on for much longer.

“Ah, ah, Jon!” her nails dug into his back painfully and Sansa curled in on herself as she came, her walls clamping down on Jon’s cock and encouraging his own orgasm shortly after. He moaned brokenly and his hips stuttered through the aftershocks as he came deep within the beautiful redhead.

 

Blinking away the spots clouding his vision, he focused on Sansa who was smiling softly up at him. Her face was flushed red and she was breathing heavily. She looked truly happy, something that Jon was not used to seeing outside of her conversations with Arya (when they were not fighting that was). Reality hit him like ice cold water and he pulled away, wincing as he left her body.

“What is wrong Jon?” Sansa sounded uncertain and scared, not what Jon had intended.

“I…” Gods why was it so difficult to talk about such things now? They had just had sex! At a loss, Jon waved vaguely at his penis and then at Sansa’s stomach.

“You cannot afford pregnancy.” He managed at last when she still looked confused.

 

Understanding cleared the frown on Sansa’s face as she softened. “It is ok Jon, I cannot become pregnant.” Now he wore the look of confusion, and she elaborated. “The Boltons ensured that.” Relief immediately washed over him, which was followed by guilt for feeling as such. Sansa had endured a horrible fate, one that she did not deserve.

“Please do not express your sympathies. I have come to terms with my reality; all I ask of you is to understand.”

“I do.”

“Good, now I humbly request that you hold me.” A smile made its way back onto Sansa’s face, and Jon responded in kind. Slipping under the bed covers, the guard pulled her close.

“You are magnificent.” He said.

“Hush dear, let us sleep.” She responded fondly. They drifted to sleep holding each other close, satisfied and comfortable.


	10. Chapter 10

They barely managed a few hours of restful sleep before Jon was woken by Sansa screaming. Automatically in defense mode he leapt out of the bed and went to arm himself when he realised that there was no physical foe to fight. She was screaming whilst writhing on the bed, her fingers gripping the sheets beneath her so hard they blanched white.

“Shh, Sansa wake up. It is just a dream.” The guard said worriedly, reaching out and shaking her slim shoulder as gently as he could whilst still being enough to rouse her.

 

With a sharp gasp Sansa woke, sitting upright in her bed. Wild eyes danced around the room and focused on Jon who attempted a reassuring smile. Far from helping, Sansa whimpered and backed away. Her arms curled in on herself for protection or comfort. Jon was far out of his depth and did not know the best way to comfort her.

“It is just me, Jon.”

“I-I know. I just – I cannot be close to a man at the moment.” Tears came to Sansa’s eyes as she looked down in shame.

“How can I help? What can I do? I can leave you alone, but I think you need company.” Jon understood that he could pose an intimidating figure even without intending to. He still needed to help.

 

“Arya. I need Arya.”

“Then I will get her.” Jon began getting dressed efficiently.

“It is so late Jon; I hardly think it is worth bothering her over.” Sansa half-heartedly objected, having asked for her sister out of temporary desperation.

“Sansa I said I would help – if she can comfort you when I cannot then it is worth it a hundred times over.” Finished dressing, Jon had to restrain himself from kissing Sansa goodbye. He settled on a blown kiss instead and was rewarded with a small smile and blush from the courtesan in reply.

 

Striding out of the villa the guard ensured that the door was securely closed behind him and saddled up a horse from the stall that sat adjacent to the property. Mounting the horse he quickly encouraged it into a gallop and made his way to the apartments that Sansa’s sister occupied. It was only a short ride but it felt like much longer to his frenzied mind, and it was with great relief that Jon found himself knocking on the plain door.

 

It swung open quickly to reveal a disheveled Arya (who had clearly just been asleep). The shorter girl spoke before Jon could explain his presence.

“What has happened? Is Sansa alright? Is she hurt?” He winced at the panic in her voice, realising how bad the situation looked.

“Sansa is not hurt physically.” He got out of the way first, seeing Arya slump in relief, “but she is distressed and asked for you. I cannot comfort her as she does not wish to be close to a man at the moment.”

 

The hardening of Arya’s face showed that she understood the deeper connotations of his words, and she nodded sharply. “Give me a moment.” With that, Jon found the door shut in his face but was not bothered by it. He moved back to the horse and stood ready, his heartrate finally slowing for the first time since he had been awoken so suddenly.

 

A minute ticked by and the door opened, revealing Arya wearing simple pants and a blouse, her short hair half tied up at the back of her head. She walked right past Jon and mounted the horse herself, giving the guard no choice but to get on behind her. With ease she started riding at a breakneck pace, knowing the route to her sister without the need for instruction. They arrived quicker than Jon had earlier which did not surprise him.

 

The younger woman dismounted and ran to the front door and tapped her foot as she waited on Jon to catch up. As soon as he opened the lock mechanism, Arya strode inside.

“Do not come into her room.” She tossed over her shoulder. Jon knew that the younger Stark had the situation handled and was unbothered by her short tone. He decided to go into his own room and try to calm himself down after the recent excitement.

 

Sansa was hunched on her bed, and could not stop her flinch when the door to her room opened. Raising her eyes she was filled with relief at the sight of her younger sister. Arya looked so strong and sure in that moment, unlike Sansa herself.

“I am sorry for waking you –“She began her apology but was interrupted.

“Not needed.” Arya held up her hand. Slowly she approached the bed and sat down on the side closest to her sister.

 

There was silence, but it was not an uncomfortable one. Each girl was waiting for the other to break it and was not rushing to do so.

“Baelish touched me.  I let him please me.”

“What?” Arya’s gasp was filled with shock.

“I let Baelish touch me and then I came home and fucked Jon. I let him touch me too. Then I had a dream about Baelish hurting me.” Once she started, Sansa could not stop. “I am a disgusting whore. I hate Baelish with every ounce of my being and I let it happen. It is going to happen again, and not just with Baelish but countless more disgusting men.” She broke off in a sob and put her head between her knees. She yearned to hug her sister but knew that what she just said would likely make her recoil.

 

That is why it was a surprise when her younger sister pulled her into a fierce embrace and held her close. She held her there as Sansa sobbed, and ran her hands up and down her back comfortingly. _Thank goodness I had the presence of mind to get dressed_.

“Do not talk about yourself that way.” Arya’s voice was stern.

“Are you mad at me?” Sansa asked, sounding so small it was as if she were the younger of the two.

“No. I want to slit Baelish’s throat though. He is a vile, disgusting man and I cannot stand the thought of him touching you.” Her voice was venomous. “He has already done enough to you, and this is too much. I hate everyone in this fucking city.”

 

“You cannot hurt any of them Arya. Not yet.”

“Yet?” there was excitement in Arya’s voice.

“I have a connection within the Iron Bank, who provided this villa for me. The Bank has interests in returning a Stark to the Northern Throne.” Sansa’s voice was quiet, but there was no way her words went unheard.

“Can he be trusted?”

“He is the first patron to not try anything with me. The Iron Bank is owed a great debt by the Baratheon’s and Lannister’s. They want them and their supporters out of power.” Despite the heaviness of the topic which they spoke about, Arya felt excitement and hope stir inside her for the first time since arriving in King’s Landing.

 

She tightened her hold on her sister. “This is dangerous sister. Promise me if you are in trouble you will come to me so I can help.” The silence from Sansa was telling. “Promise me.” Arya pulled back and looked into her sister’s eyes. “Please Sansa. You are all I have left, and I cannot let you be hurt.”

“I promise.” Sansa finally relented. “Jon would never allow anything to happen to me anyway.” She dismissed with a wave of her hand.

 

Arya narrowed her eyes. “Jon? Did he not approach you for sex as the others?”

“No! It was not like that at all! I _wanted him._ ” Sansa whispered as though they might be heard. “I approached him.”

“After your outing with Baelish.” Arya was disbelieving.

“I know that makes me-“

“It does not make you anything. You have done nothing wrong here Sansa. Seeking pleasures where you want them, **if** you want them is nothing to be ashamed of. I just do not want you taken advantage of.”

“I assure you, Jon has not taken advantage of me.” Sansa smiled then let out an almighty yawn which made Arya chuckle.

 

“Looks like you need to get back to sleep.”

“Stay in the villa tonight? There is a spare bed for you…”

“I will sleep in this bed with you; after I make sure everything is secure.” Arya said. Sansa was startled; they had not shared a bed since they were babes. She could not deny that the idea comforted her though. Content, she got back under her blanket and turned on her side as her sister left the room. Closing her eyes, she was back asleep within moments.

 

 

“Arya. How is Sansa?” Jon stood to attention when the younger stark sister came into his quarters.

“How dare you!” she kept her voice low but furious.

“What?”

“You took advantage of her!” Arya approached him and jabbed a finger into his chest.

“ow! I would not do that to her Arya!”

“Then you did not fuck her?” The shorter girl crossed her arms, her face a mask of disdain. Jon blushed and tried to stutter out an answer. “I knew it! You pathetic pig!” The guard let out a breath of air as he was shoved by Arya – she had more force behind her than he anticipated.

 

“She wanted it as well, I promise! I would not have touched her otherwise.”

“When it happened, was she upset?”

“Beforehand, yes. But not about anything I did to her!”

“And after being upset, what did she do?” Jon did not feel comfortable going into detail with Arya, but he was keen to make her understand. The very idea of hurting Sansa made him ill.

“She propositioned me. I was reluctant but – she is gorgeous and I truly care for her.” Jon hoped that would temper the flames within Arya’s eyes but they remained burning in anger.

 

“She has been trained to use sex to get what she wants. Most people around her pay attention to her because that is what they want. They are nice to her because they are led by their cocks. If she was upset, and you comforted her – can you understand that a small part of her thought that the way to thank you was with her body?” Arya spoke every word as if she was explaining a difficult equation to a stupid child.

 

“She said that she _chose_ to have sex with me.” Jon replied, mentally going through the events of the evening. Was he in the wrong?

“I know she did. She said the same to me.” Arya wilted, her anger leaving her body and causing her to slump. “I am sorry. I was out of line. She cares for you a great deal, and I am afraid that you will be like every other man she meets in this place.”

“You do not need to apologise. I like knowing that Sansa has someone else in her corner. I think tonight has been a lot for all of us, are you staying over?”

“I will stay with Sansa in her room.” Arya said, already backing away.

“Truly – I understand Arya. Good night.” Jon turned to his bed allowing her to leave the room. He was speaking truly when he said that he appreciated Arya. She made a few good points though, and it would not hurt for him to consider the context of their situation when he was with Sansa.

 

Not that he would stop whatever they had going – no, he did not think he could stop that for the world.


End file.
